Page 60 of Bound By Revenge

“What the hell was that?” I demand, my voice sharper than I intended.

Nik raises an eyebrow, genuinely perplexed. “What the hell was what?”

“That,” I say, hissing the word as I nod toward the brunette still rooted near the bar. “What the hell just happened over there?”

"Oh,” he says, a faint hint of relief creeping into his tone. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Oh, no. Don’t give me that. Youhaveto tell me what the hell I just saw.”

“It’s nothing. Really, Kat?—”

“I'm not going to drop this,” I interrupt, crossing my arms. “So you might as well save us both some time and just tell me.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes like he’s summoning every ounce of patience he has left. After a long sigh, he finally says, “If youreallymust know, that was Erin.”

“Erin?” I repeat, blinking in disbelief. “As in Erin McGuire? Maxim’s lover? Daughter of your arch-nemesis?”

“Shh.” His eyes narrow as he glances around, voice low and teeth clenched. “Yes, that Erin. And for fuck's sake, would you keep your voice down?”

“Wow,” I mutter, momentarily stunned. After a beat, I press, “What did you give her?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I mean, Isawit was a ring. But why would you give Erin McGuire a gold ring?”

His jaw ticks. “What part of ‘this is none of your business’ don’t you understand?”

“What part of ‘I’m not going to drop this’ don’tyouunderstand?”

Nik exhales loudly, muttering something sharp in Russian under his breath.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, may God deliver me from nosy women who can’t mind their own fucking business.”

“Cute,” I say, matching his glare as I cross my arms tighter. “Hey, if you won’t tell me, maybe I’ll just go ask her myself.”

His hand shoots out, grabbing my arm in a firm—but not painful—grip. “I don’t think so,” he growls, his voice dangerously low. “Did nobody ever tell you about curiosity killing the cat?”

“Ha-ha,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I get it. Because my name’s Kat. Like I’ve never heardthatone before. Now spill, or I’ll cause a scene.”

Nik leans in close, his voice a low, restrained growl. “Once upon a time, Maxim and Erin had the ridiculous idea of running away together. He proposed to her with the ring you just saw. Before they could escape, word of their affair got out. McGuire whisked her off to Ireland, and I had no choice but to send Maxim to Russia. Somehow, Erin got the ring back to him, and he held onto it all the years he was in exile. After his death, Ifound it among his belongings. I figured he’d have wanted her to have it.”

I stare at him, stunned, before my gaze flicks to Erin across the room. She’s still clutching the ring like it’s a piece of her heart. A pang of heartbreak hits me as I watch her—so young, so beautiful, so weighed down by love and loss that can never be resolved.

Before I can say anything, Nik’s grip on my arm tightens, almost painfully. His entire body goes rigid, his attention snapping to something—or someone—just out of my view. A moment later, he forces himself to relax, his arm snaking around my back, his hand resting possessively on my stomach.

The abrupt shift in his demeanor sends a shiver down my spine. Then I see him—a distinguished middle-aged man cutting through the crowd toward us, an insincere smile twisting his lips. Recognition dawns immediately. Patrick McGuire. The man from the surveillance footage. Nik’s enemy.

“Nikolai,” McGuire says smoothly, his lilting Irish accent a grating mix of charm and menace.

Nik gives him a curt nod. “Patrick.”

“I thought that was you across the room,” McGuire continues, his voice laced with false warmth. “I wanted to come over and pay my respects. I was so terribly sorry to hear about Maxim. What a pity.” His head tilts slightly, the hollow smile on his face never reaching his eyes.

Nik only stares at him, his expression impassive, but McGuire either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore the coldness emanating from him.

“And the whole thing with his missing remains, too. Such a disgrace, wouldn’t you say?” McGuire adds, his tone dripping with feigned sympathy.

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